Out of Ice
by EmilieTulip
Summary: (Human AU) In which Jack gets pulled from the Ice with his heart still beating, leaving five very guilt ridden high-schoolers realising their mistreatment of the boy.
1. Prologue

[Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians, or any of its characters]

* * *

 **-Prologue-**

 _"Jack, I'm scared!"_

 _"Hey, it-it's okay. Just look at me."_

Emma Overland clamped her small hands over her ears, as if to block out the noise. How could she have been so stupid? The world bustled around her small frame as she curled in on the stiff, blue chair. This was her fault; _all_ her fault. She should've waited for him. She should've checked the ice was safe beforehand.

 _"You're not going to fall. We-we're going to have a little fun instead…"_

 _"No! We're not!"_

 _"Yes, we are. Uh- it'll be like that time, that time with the snow machine, remember. T-that was fun, wasn't it. Would I trick you?"_

 _"Yes! You always play tricks."_

The young girl winced. If he- _No!_ She would not go there. But if he did… one of the last things he heard would be of his sister _not trusting_ him. She was a terrible sibling, absolutely dreadful, but here she was. Whole. Healthy. And a few doors down her older brother was struggling for his life. Her mother had long given up trying to console her. Now she sat in silence, limp in her daughter's hold. They were two porcelain dolls, glassy eyed and shivering at the prospect of life without him.

 _"N-not, not this time," Jack stuttered, his eyes shifting briefly to the side. "We're going to play hopscotch, l-like we do every day. It's as simple as one-"_

 _CRACK._

 _The boy winced as the ice crunched beneath him, but still he continued: "Two."_

 _This leap was better; the ice thicker. It had felt familiar beneath his bare feet. Almost safe…_

 _"Three!"_

 _He landed by a hooked stick. The old thing looked peculiarly like an old Shepard's staff, only the wood was twisted, parts of it flaking off._

The staff now sat on the floor by the young girls feet. She couldn't bear to leave it behind. He had touched it. His cold hands had picked it up as if it were some precious relic, and with it her big brother had saved her life. Maybe, just maybe, if she kept it close it could save his as well. This, she knew, was insane. A desperate thought for a truly desperate girl, but it was also all she had right now.

 _"Now it's your turn," Jack took a shuddering breath inwards and braced himself. His warm, brown eyes held a determined look as he focused on his sister. He only had one chance…_

 _"One."_

 _CRACK._

 _Deep breath, "Two."_

 _CREAK._

 _Almost there, "Three!"_

 _And with that he hooked the twisted stick around Emma's small body and pulled. The girl in question went skidding across the ice until it was smooth and firm underneath her feet. Jackson Overland let out his breath at his success._

Emma remembered that moment, just before everything had gone to hell. Their eyes had connected and although it only lasted a second, she could've sworn that hours passed. There had been such relief. _She hadn't fallen in!_ Her brother had saved her! Neither sibling realised that in doing so he had sacrificed himself.

 _The cracking of ice had been louder this time; it sounded as if the whole world was ending. A flash of horror shone through their connected eyes, and then he was gone: pulled under. The lake was icily silent. The only indicator that something was terribly wrong was the jagged hole where her brother had disappeared._

 _A vile scream tore its way through Emma Overland's throat, "JACK!"_

Thinking back on it, he must've been close by. There was no other way that the large teen could've otherwise made it. But in seconds he was there, shoving her off the lake and diving into the freezing waters after her fallen saviour. She hadn't even noticed his shaggy-looking companion.

 _"Hello? This is Phil St North. We need an ambulance down at Burgess lake. Somebody's fallen through the ice."_

Her eyes had been glued to the ice. She wanted to look away. She couldn't look away. And then-

 _Nicholas St North gasped as he broke through the ice, the small body grasped tightly within his firm arms. The Russian had never moved so fast in his life; he just hoped that he was fast enough…_

Emma was still in shock from how pale her brother was. His skin was almost turning blue, his lips a sullen grey. He looked- she didn't want to say it, but he looked _dead._

 _"Jack!" She screeched, rushing over to him._

 _Nicholas had pulled him over to the side of the lake and was thumping on Jack's chest. Emma was horrified, was he…? Loud sirens could now be hears approaching, and the small girl prayed to the heavens: get here soon. Then there was water being spat up from the boy's grey lips. So much water, but still he did not stir. She could hear people running towards them now._

 _"Jack…" She muttered, hand grazing his cheek._

Emma flinched at the memory. He had been so cold. It wasn't natural for _anybody_ to be that cold. Not even a corpse. But her brother was not a corpse, at least not yet. Instead he was rushed to hospital with severe hypothermia and possible brain damage. That was all she knew. That was all anybody knew.

Nicholas had been taken away too. He was now sat across from her draped in a foil blanket and a bobble hat, Phil by his side. He was extremely lucky, they had been told, not to have got hypothermia as well. Emma wanted to go over. To thank him for saving her brother. But she couldn't. Not when there Jack was still fighting. Not when he could _die_ at any given moment. She shivered. The large Russian looked up and his warm, blue eyes met her brown ones. _Thank you_ , she wanted to say, _thank you for trying._ A sad smile graced his lips and he nodded, understanding.

"Mrs Overland?" A cautious voice asked.

Four heads snapped up and towards the unsuspecting doctor. Janet Overland squeezed her daughter's hand - a lifeline - before shakily standing up.

"Yes," She coughed, "Yes, that's me. How-how is…?"

The doctor gestured for her to the side where they could talk more privately, and Mrs Overland followed. The rest watched, gauging results from her mother's reactions: a tearful smile; a pained gasp; silent sobs and a nod of the head; another pathetic smile. Emma's heart dropped. _No!_ This wasn't fair! He couldn't be-

"He's not dead."

The voice knocked her from her shock.

"What?!" Emma shrieked.

Her mother sighed, wrapping her arm around her daughter's shoulder, and repeated: "He's not dead. At least, not yet."

A loud ringing was filling the room. Emma could hardly hear her mother's words above the loud sound.

"He's- they-" Janet Overland took a deep breath in, "Jack is in a coma."

The ringing only got louder.

"They don't know when, _if_ , he'll wake up, but-" She turned to Nicholas, "Thank you. Because of you, because of what you did, he might have a chance…"

The ringing was so loud now that Emma couldn't concentrate. _Coma._ It filled her senses, high pitched and annoying. _Coma._ It was all too much.

The next thing she knew, her small body was spiralling towards the ground.


	2. Chapter 1

[Disclaimer: I do not own ROTG or any of its characters]

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

There was an unsettled atmosphere around Burgess School the next day. Something had happened, of that everyone was sure, but _what_ exactly? Nobody noticed the absence of a brown headed trickster. Why would they? He was practically invisible!

"I'm tellin' yah, mate," an accented voice was heard booming through the corridors, "Somethin' ain't right."

Aster Bunnymund's statement was met with a series of fast-paced signs from a short, rather rounded blond. The tanned Australian sighed, squinting at his small friend in annoyance.

"Really, Sandy! Yah know I can't understand it when yah sign tha' fast. Just slow-"

" _Ooooooh!_ " He was interrupted by a high pitched squeal and a blur of colour, "I've got it!"

Anna, known mainly as _Tooth_ , was not one for her subtlety. Always donned in bright colours, the girl's bubbly personality was an instant hit with many of the school's population. To see her without a smile was a rare occurrence.

Tooth twisted a blue feather that she had strung in her hair, "Right," she stated, "Sandy says that…an ice-cream truck? No! Sorry! Ice cream parlour… um… fell from the sky? No that can't be it."

"Tooth," Aster reached out, "I don't think-"

"Oh! He's asking us to go for ice-cream after we've failed all our classes! That's a bit harsh, Sandy, don't you think?"

The small teen in question was holding his face in his palms. _His friends were idiots._ Hadn't they heard the rumours? Sandy didn't understand how not; there were a lot of them and they all differed. All he knew for certain was that _something_ had happened at Burgess lake the previous day, but the vibes he was getting were not positive ones. The small dreamer sighed; this was really not good for his zen. There was too much uncertainty.

Unknown to him, there were only three people in the school that knew exactly what had gone down the previous day, and one of them was walking straight towards them.

"North!" at Aster's call Sandy peeked up from behind his hands.

Nicholas St North was slouching - _yes, slouching!_ \- through the corridors, as if he did not want to be noticed. There was no trace of the large Russian's usual boisterous personality, instead he seemed muted: sad. Aster, being the insensitive git he was, naturally took no notice of this.

"How's your belly?" He asked, carelessly throwing an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Any misplaced rumblings? Bad gut feelings? Indigestion?"

It was a long-running Joke to the group that whenever something bad was going to happen, North's belly would start acting up. Take last Easter, when the group had hosted a school-fair to welcome back the old class of 68. The night before, North had such a bad case of indigestion that he was almost unable to attend; almost unable to witness the _hell_ that would become of Aster's carefully crafted plan.

"Not now, Bunny." North mumbled, earning a glare from his friend, "Yezster-yezsterday morning, but not now. I should 'ave known…"

At the sombre tone Tooth turned away from her textbook, where she had been hurriedly revising the human mouth, to face the sombre teen.

"What's wrong, North?" She asked, a cautious smile gracing her lips, "Is it something ice-cream can fix? We plan on going after school today."

North rubbed his eyes, dark rings making themselves known to the group, "I- No, you vill vind out zoon enough. Zhere iz an azzembly today. Ve should be zhere."

And with that he was off; tall form failing to hide among the masses of students that knew _something_ wasn't quite right.

"Wonder what tha' was all about, eh?" Said Aster, turning back towards his friends.

They weren't listening. Tooth was back to her textbook, chatting hurriedly under her breath, and desperately trying to remember the names of all the teeth. Beside her, Sandy was standing with his eyes closed and his thumbs pressed to his heartbeat, breathing deeply in his morning meditation routine.

Bunny sighed, "Bunch of gumbys…"

* * *

There was _definitely_ something wrong. If Aster hadn't been sure before, he was now. Not only were North and his cousin Phil huddled together in grim silence, but even the teachers were sharing miserable looks. Headmistress Moon, straightened her suit before walking on stage. Her smile was small and sad.

"My dear students," she began, "I am sure by now you are realising that something is up."

Her eyes glazed the crowd, and Aster glared in suspicion as they landed on North. _What was going on?_

"It is with a heavy heart that I announce the following. Yesterday evening a tragic ordeal happened at our very own Burgess lake." The pale mentor wiped a hand across her brown, taking a deep breath in to steady herself. "One of our- a s-student was reported to have- to have fallen through the ice of the lake."

A collective gasp ran through the crown. Friends turned to each other, sharing wide-eyed looks and words of horror. Beside him, Tooth had pulled her hands up to her mouth in a silent cry; her violet eyes were filling with unshed tears. A cold shiver ran down Aster's spine, and fine Goosebumps pimpled on his tanned skin. _Somebody had died?_

"The boy in question is currently being treated at Burgess Hospital, but he is in critical condition and it is my duty as a teacher - as a friend - to warn you that he might not…"

The Headmistress trailed off, her words not needing to be finished. Everybody understood the implication. Everybody knew that which was left unspoken. The boy could die.

"Our thoughts should be with the boy's family, but I would like to express my deepest gratitude to Nicholas St North-" Aster's mouth flew wide open, "who risked his own to pull the boy from the lake. It was an incredibly brave thing to do, Nicholas. Thank you."

Eyes swivelled towards North as once again the room erupted into chaos. If it were possible, the large Russian seemed to shrink into his seat at the attention. North was not a shy teenager, but this was not something he wanted to be in the spotlight for. Not when he should've got there earlier. Not when he could've _saved_ the boy from falling in the first place. Headmistress Moon was drowned out in the chaos. Normally she had complete control over these things, but this, it seemed, was a special occasion. Out of the words being spoken, Aster made out _'sign'_ and _'card'_.

Just when he was beginning to think that they would have to call in extra security to tackle the rioting students, a voice shouted out and silenced the crowds.

"Who was it?" The unknown student yelled, "Who fell through the ice?"

It was not Headmistress Moon that replied, but a woeful, Russian voice, that carried across the crowd.

 _"Jackson Overland"_ revealed North.


	3. Chapter 2

[Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians or any of its characters]

Tooth had never spoken to Jackson Overland, or Jack Frost as he was more commonly dubbed. She'd see him in passing on the streets or in school corridors. Occasionally they'd exchange pleasant smiles (read: he would smile and she would swoon at his exelent dental hygiene). Their only real exchange was wordless.

She was 13 years old. Her obsession with teeth was still fresh and brewing. Some people thought this was weird. Of course, her friends would protect her. Tease her but defend her. She was safe from bullies for as long as they were with her.

Naturally, the attack happened when she was alone.

Kozmotis Pitchiner was a nightmare of a boy. He seemed to feed upon making others fear him, and what better victim that an insecure 13 year old girl who was just beginning to find her footing?

"Ouch!" Yelped Tooth, as she was harshly shoved to the ground.

The dental health books, which she had been attempting to stow away in her locker, cascaded in a messy halo around her fallen frame. A dark shadow loomed over her.

"Cavity girl," it sneered, "what an unpleasant surprise."

Tooth almost growled, "Pitch!"

The older student hummed dismissively, taking in the fallen books.

"You know," mocked Pitch, "I'm not even surprised, not really. Only a weirdo like you would read such utter rubbish."

His foot landed on one of the open pages and smeared it into the ground.

"Why you li–"

"Now, now, dear. No need to get your feathers in a flurry. I was just trying to help. You see, when people are ill they need to be diagnosed. I was diagnosing you," he paused, cackled, "you're a freak, cavity girl. Incurably so."

Tears pricked at the corner of her eye as he turned on heel and flounced away. She needed to move but her ankle had seized up when she fell. She closed her eyes, then immediately opened them upon the sound of movement. Maybe Pitch had come back?

Or maybe not.

Jack Frost was walking towards her, a delicate frown posed between dark brows. Without a word, he bent down and stacked up her books, piling them into her locker. Then, with a toothy grin (she swooned) he pulled her into a standing position beside him, wrapping her arm around his shoulder in a way that allowed him to take her weight.

In silence, apart from the occasional sniffle from Tooth, they headed for the school nurse. There were no words exchanged, for none were needed. Jack stayed by her side, a constant comfort, until the nurse forced him to leave. The next day in school they had passed in the corridor. Jack offered Tooth a nod, a grin. Tooth returned the nod, smiled briefly, then turned back to her friends.

She wasn't meant to be here, that much was obvious. Only family were allowed into his room, but there was no-one there. His little sister was sitting miserably in school, his father was at work, and Mrs. Overland had just taken a well needed break to the hospital cafe for lunch.

Tooth was skipping school to be here. It wasn't like her; she'd never skipped before, but alas, here she was. Inside her chest, a heart used to gentle flutters was drumming out a hurricane. She was _not_ meant to be here.

She should leave before she got caught.

But _Jack._..

No! There was absolutely no way she could leave right now, with one foot already through the door. Taking a deep inhalation of breath, Tooth squared her shoulders, looked left then right, before sneaking into his room.

He looked like death. If it weren't for the constant beeping of the heart monitor, Tooth would've thought him a sculpture of the coldest ice. His cheeks were hollow, eyes closed, and upon his lanky frame lay a gazillion blankets. They must have been brought from his home, as one was covered in blue and yellow handprints, the bottom left corner reading: _Jack Emma._ On the chair beside his bed, a blue hoodie had been draped as if it were a sacrificial offering to obtain his conciousness. To sustain his life.

"Jack," Tooth whispered, reaching forward to claps his hand.

It was colder than ice.

"Jack, you n-need to wake u-up," she stumbled across her planned words, before abandoning them completely. "Do you remember April 17th, back when we were just kids? Do you remember how you found me on the floor after Pitch?"

Jack didn't even twitch.

"I never thanked you for that, Jack. You smiled at me and I just assumed you knew."

In Tooth's imagination, Jacks eyelids fluttered open. Upon his awakening he looked at her and smiled; _"It's okay"_.

The Jack on the bed did not wake up.

"I'm sorry for ignoring you," she paused, a small sob escaping her mouth, "I guess that's all anyone ever did to you, though. I should've thanked you. I should've strode over, pulled you into a hug, and let you know how grateful I was for what you did for me that day. I think ... I think that maybe ... if you hadnt, I would never have picked up those books again. I would've let them rot there on that very floor. You did more than just help me to the nurses, Jack. You protected what was important to me."

Tooth was aware that she hadn't much time. Her voice was nervous and rushed, but sincere.

"That memory, it keeps my path afloat, Jack," she stroked a whisp of hair out of his face, "so thank you. Thank you for helping me up. Thank you for keeping me safe. And thank you for waiting so long for me to get my brain straight and apologise, like I should've done all those years ago..."

When Mrs. overland returned to the room, there was no notion of a skittish guest having ever been there, aside from the small, blue feather placed at Jack's bedside.


	4. Chapter 3

[Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians or any of its characters. Also, I can't write accents to save my life so thanks for bearing with me.]

The night before Jack's accident, North had the worst stomach ache of his life. It felt like a thunder storm, but Jack's fall had felt so much worse.

The morning of the accident he had checked the ice. It was a bit thin perhaps, but thick enough for now. Maybe he would put up some safety signs, just in case...

"Shostakovich," he cursed under his breath, "Is all my fault."

He hadn't put up those stupid signs.

A boy had fallen through the ice, almost taking his sister with him.

Jack might never wake up because of North's own forgetfulness.

He was only 17 years old. North didn't know when the boy's birthday was, but the idea that he might never reach 18 sent a shiver up his spine. Jack frost might die a child.

He was in hospital again, Mrs Overland had snuck him into Jack's room and nobody made an effort to remove him. In their eyes he was a hero. They didn't know about the signs.

He had met Jack on his first day at school. Having recently moved all the way from Russia, North had not known a single soul. Jack had latched onto him almost immediately.

"Hey there, big guy!" He'd grinned, "You're looking a bit lost. First day?"

"Da," North had affirmed and, if possible, Jack's grin widened.

"Russian" he'd queried, and upon North's nod, continued, "I went there once on holiday. Very cold. Lots of snow. I loved it!"

North boomed a laugh, "Vell Russia is best."

"That it is," Jack laughed, "Now let's get you to first period."

Jack told him where he sat for lunch in case North wanted to join. It was a kind gesture that ultimately went ignored. In biology he had met Aster, who immediately warned him off of Jack Frost.

"Tha' show pony ain't nothin' but trouble. If yer wanna get expelled in yah first week, yer on the right path, mate."

And so North had sat with Aster, completely oblivious to the small smile that slid off Jack's face as he realised he'd be spending another year alone.

Jack tried, with a facade of enthusiasm masking his desperation, to earn North's friendship. He'd invite him over, attempt to lure into pranks or games, and even went as far as knocking on his door (they were, after all, neighbours). Phil had answered and they pretended North was out, but North knew his hiding place was ameturish at best. Jack got the message. Eager attempts at friendship faded into nods of acknowledgement, and eventually, nothing at all.

North had abandoned Jack when he obviously needed a friend. He was a coward, scared of being more different than he already was. And now Jack might die, friendless and alone.

"Tchaikovsky," a different composer, a different curse, "Jack, I have been bad person, da?"

Jack made no move to deny this. His unusually dull, brown hair was combed back, and there was no smile upon his face. It was worse than uncanny. He did not seem at peace, in fact, he didn't seem much of anything at all as the machine breathed for him. Jack Frost was a sculpture carved from ice; with the faintest touch he might shatter.

"Tooth visited," North acknowledged, glancing at the small feather by Jack's bedside, "she is quiet now. Not herself. Did she ask you to vake up?"

No response, of course.

"She gave you gift. I too bring gift. It is like Christmas. You vake, you get present."

And from his pocket he brought a small wooden doll. It sat with wide eyes, next to the feather.

"This us my center, Jack," he explained to the sleeping boy, "I see the wonder in everything. But it not help now. You need to vake up. Maybe...if this is my center, it can help you find yours. Maybe that brings you back to us."

North paused, gently clasping the boy's shoulder.

"I apologise now, for abandoning you in time of need. I am sorry, Jack. When you wake, I tell you this in person, da?"

North said his piece once, but in his head he screamed it to the heavens over, and over, and over again.

Behind the door, Mrs Jackson heard his words and turned to sob into her husbands shaking arms.


	5. Chapter 4

Sandy wasn't like the others.

Sure, he hadn't been great to Jack, but he'd tried significantly more than his friends. He'd attempted to sign to Jack before, but the boy didn't understand. Much like Tooth, he would achcknowledge the boy in the corridors, but he always did so with vigour and joy. Whilst tooth would nod and smile, Sandy would bounce and wave, always bringing a grin to Jack's face.

Once, when the boy seemed especially stressed, he had slipped a book on meditation in his backpack. In turn, he'd found a book on snowflake patterns tucked safely inside his coat pocket. It was small things like this that let each other know that whilst they weren't quite friends, they were more than just acquaintances.

But Sandly had also failed the boy.

Sandy had driven away Pitch.

Sure, Pitch was a stuck-up bully, but he had also been Jack's only friend. Their friendship began when they were children and led right up to the end of year 7. Sandy liked Jack; he was vibrant and joyful, but surely, he had thought, he would be better off with better friends. Anyone but Kozmotis Pitchiner.

For if there were anyone in the world who despised the nightmare of a boy, it was Sanderson Mansnoozie. Whenever they were around one another, sandy lost his zen. All the books on meditation and spiritual enlightenment flew straight out the window and he found himself burning with rage. Pitch was a bully. Sandy was a friend.

Only, could he really describe himself as a friend after what he had done? After Pitch was out of the picture he didn't offer Jack anyone in his place, but continued as normal as if nothing had happened. Jack was left entirely on his own.

Throughout the entirety of year 7, Sandy had been dreaming different ways to save Jack from Pitch's so-called friendship. Eventually he figured there was only one way. He approached Pitch.

"What do you want, Snoozie?" Pitch had sighed, as if bored.

'Stay away from Jack' Sandy had signed, knowing that his rival understood.

Pitch's bored stare morphed into a cold glower.

"What?" He hissed, "You wish me to separate from my only friend in this hellhole. You would be so cruel?"

Sandy nodded and pitch let out a harsh cackle.

"I don't think so, Mansnoozie." He snarled, "Jack needs me just as much as I need him."

Sandy disagreed. How could someone as happy as Jack need such a negative impact on his life? Besides, Pitch had a bad influence on his friends. His cousin, Night Light, was evidence of that. He too had been friends with Pitch, although he didn't believe he'd ever been acquainted with Jack. Pitch had led him on a downwards spiral of vandilism and trouble, until the poor kid had broken down and had begged his parents to move away. Sandy never forgave Pitch.

'You'll ruin him,' signed sandy, 'Just like Night.'

Pitch recoiled backwards, "You dare—"

'Let him go.'

He was being harsh using Pitches fears against him. Sandy knew how much Night's breakdown had effected him; knew how the nightmare boy still felt guilt from his actions, but he didn't care. He would save Jack, even if it meant hurting Pitch.

Little did he know that his actions would cause them more pain than if he'd left them alone.

The next day, Kozmotis Pitchiner stopped speaking to Jackson Overland, and both boys were left isolated from their only source of friendship. Sandy ate his lunch with a dreamy smile upon his face. It would be for the best.

Looking back at this, the young dreamer wanted to bash his head against a wall. How could he have thought this better? He had intervened in something that was none of his business and hurt not one, but two other children. It was going on five years since his interference and the guilt was burying him alive. If he didn't apologise now, he might never get the chance to.

"Only family are allowed to visit the patients."

The nurses tired, mechanical voice pulled him from his daydreams.

'I'm his cousin,' Sandy signed.

The nurse seemed struck for what to do.

"I'm sorry," she explained, looking nervously over her shoulders, "I don't know...I can't understand..."

Sandy widened his eyes, the picture of innocence, and signed something far less polite. The nurse seemed a little guilty as she stared at him.

Finally getting a hold of herself, she queried, "Are you family?"

Sandy nodded his lie.

Ten minutes and several white lies later, he found himself inside Jack's room and staring at the sleeping (half-dead?) boy. The beeping of the heart moniter was steady, almost lulling Sandy into a snooze. That wasn't hard, most things did.

He didn't know what he'd expected. Maybe for Jack to be awake, grinning from ear to ear as he entered. Or maybe for him to look a little more alive. He had anticipated the heart moniter, but not the catheter. Or the IVs. Or the complicated implements to help him breath. God, the poor boy couldn't even breathe by himself. Jack wasn't human, he was a machine. Without a battery he would be as dead as he looked. Sandy shivered.

'I'm sorry,' he signed, rather pathetically.

Jack couldn't even see his apology. It hit Sandy how selfish this all was. Why apologize if he was the only one to hear it? And in the end words didn't speak, Sandy knew that better than any. It was actions that told the tale.

He put his hand on Jack's, fleetingly. Tucked up the blankets underneath his chin. Fluffed the pillows. Moved the tattered blue teddy bear so it was under Jack's arm. Tapped out his favourite song onto the boy's shin. And then he sat until he could sit no longer.

Jack's family would be here soon and he would be in a whole load of trouble. With a sorrowful sigh, Sandy stood to leave. Jack did not wake up at their parting, nor did he say goodbye.

Two days later, Jack's sister was the first to notice the golden dreamcatcher that lay hidden underneath the boys pillow.


End file.
